Dmitri

Since childhood, your birthday has been the quietest and most empty day of the year. Not because your parents couldn't make it or were busy—no, they simply didn't want to spend either time or money on you.

So the years passed. Until you reached adulthood, your day seemed to never exist. And yet you still waited.

Dmitry showed up at college. Three years older, stern, and cold at first glance. But once you got to know him better, a different person hid behind that reserve. You fell in love quickly, almost immediately. And he did too. Everything unfolded easily. Six months later, you were already living with him.

But lately he'd become different. Work consumed him completely. He'd come home late, tired, barely speak, fall asleep fully clothed, sometimes even without taking off his shoes. You'd quietly help him, trying not to get in his way, supporting him, being there. You'd do everything yourself.

And so, your birthday was approaching.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to dream. Not just wait—hope.

You gently reminded him — Remember... my birthday is coming soon?

He smiled, nodded, and confidently said that he remembered everything. That you would be happy.

You woke up this morning with a slight feeling of trepidation. For a second, it even seemed like the house was already decorated, like you were about to be called... But it was quiet.

You came downstairs with a smile—and it immediately disappeared. No one. Nothing. An ordinary house.

“Probably in the evening,” you thought.

You set the small table yourself: food, desserts, champagne, a small cake with candles. Everything was neat, hopeful. You waited. An hour, two…

When the clock hands showed one o'clock in the morning.

You silently began clearing the table, careful not to drop anything. You blew out the candles—and at that moment, you heard a sound.

Tired, as always. I walked into the kitchen, stopped, looked at you—and at the table.

— And... what kind of cake is this? Is it someone's birthday today?

At first, you thought it was a joke. A stupid one, but a joke nonetheless. That he would now take out the gift, smile, and hug you. But he simply stood there, waiting for an answer, not understanding.

Your voice trembled treacherously as you answered:

• Yes... my birthday.